CCLXIX Joy
Sweet order hath its draught of bliss
Graced with the pearl of God’s consent,
Ten times ecstatic in that ’tis
Considerate and innocent.
In vain disorder grasps the cup; 5
The pleasure’s not enjoyed, but spilt;
And, if he stoops to lick it up,
It only tastes of earth and guilt;
His sorry raptures rest destroys;
To live, like comets they must roam; 10
On settled poles turn solid joys,
And sun-like pleasures shine at home.
Coventry Patmore.